


A Work in Translation

by tristesses



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-04
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 21:51:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/312543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristesses/pseuds/tristesses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luna shows Marietta the poetry in her skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Work in Translation

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 6/24/2008.

Luna set the vial of dark ink down tenderly, as if it were a precious, delicate stone, not to be mishandled. Marietta watched her, face hidden by shadow, perched on the dark blue sheets and ready to flee at the sight of mockery.

The blonde licked the nib of her quill and looked to Marietta.

“Open the window,” she said softly. “Lie down. Nothing’s going to hurt you, you know.”

With a gesture of her wand, Marietta opened the window; moonlight shone in, and the curtains billowed. She shivered, a movement not unnoticed by Luna.

“The wind’s cold, isn’t it?” she asked conversationally, moving toward Marietta, slowly, as if not to frighten a wild beast. “And strong. But it will help the ink dry faster.”

“This is insane.” Marietta’s voice was scratchy, as if she hadn’t had water for a very long time. “I shouldn’t be here with you. I mean, you’re _Looney Lovegood_.”

Luna replied serenely, “And you’re the house sneak. I should think we make a good match.” She rested next to the other girl, quill in hand. Marietta regarded it like a dagger.

“Lean back,” the blonde said soothingly. “Let it go.”

Marietta gave a quavering laugh. “Let what go?”

Luna only smiled.

Marietta lay against the sheets, goosebumps rising on her freckled skin. Her strawberry hair, wildly curly as always, had escaped its clips and wound in ringlets against her ears and shoulders. The marks on her face spelled out SNEAK; Luna touched them tenderly, even though the other girl shrunk away from her fingers.

“Shut your eyes,” Luna whispered, and Marietta did.

The feather was light against her cheek, tracing paths from scar to scar. Marietta instinctively turned her head toward Luna, eyes flickering open.

“What are you – ”

“These spell words in the Blibbering Humdinger’s written language,” said Luna dreamily. “If you look, it’s poetry.”

“What does it say?” whispered Marietta.

“I can’t translate it, not into English,” replied Luna, “but it’s beautiful.”

She dipped the tip of the quill into her inkwell.

“Here, I’ll show you.”

She traced symbols delicately onto Marietta’s skin, at the curve of her breast, the indent of her waist, the point of her hip. Lingering over her stomach, Luna smiled peacefully and gently touched the quill to Marietta’s collarbone. The redhead threaded her fingers through Luna’s white hair.

There were sighs, and gasps, and occasional moans, but most of all, the sound of the wind, breezing through the window. When Marietta opened her eyes again, the ink was smeared across her body, blotted on Luna’s fair skin.

“We ruined the poem,” she said softly.

“No,” said Luna. She laid her hand on Marietta’s stomach, sketching patterns in the ink on her flesh. “We wrote one.”


End file.
